


Desk I and II, The

by jasmasson



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: Written, with respect, for the Persuaders List. What *is* on Mulder's desk?





	Desk I and II, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Desk By Jas Masson

Author: Jas Masson  
Title: The Desk  
Rating: NC17 for discipline (spanking) and EXPLICIT m/m sex  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimer: CC and Fox. But if they were mine, they'd be happier!  
Feedback:   
Summary: Written, with respect, for the Persuaders List. What *is* on Mulder's desk?

* * *

The Desk By Jas Masson

"Mulder, are you OK?"

"Uh...what?" came the intelligent response as he raised his eyes.

Sighing patiently, Scully repeated the question.

"Yes. Absolutely. Great. Just dandy." *Just DANDY?!!*, he groaned inwardly, as she raised an elegant eyebrow. He decided to brazen it out. "Umm...you?"

"Fine, Mulder. Just dandy, in fact." He winced almost imperceptibly. "Is there something wrong with your desk?"

He fought manfully against the flush he felt crawling up his neck and attempted, for at least the fifteenth time today, to gauge gauge her view of the surface of the aforementioned piece of furniture; not to mention the rather frequent reconnaissance missions to her side of the room. "Why do you ask?" he inquired as innocently as possible. There went that eyebrow again.

"Because, Mulder," she said, speaking slowly and clearly, "You've been staring at it all morning."

"I have not!" he said indignantly, and *waay* too quickly.

A second eyebrow joined its disbelieving counterpart in a lofty position.

"Well...um...there's a...um...rather ugly watermark on there," he tried to modulate his quickening breathing as she approached his desk, "What we need is some...uh...coasters. Yes. Or...I should drink less coffee. Yes. I've been trying to cut down for ages. Bad for you. Coffee is," he trailed off as she stared at him.

"Mulder, that's been there since you got the desk."

"Yes. Yes it has. But...I'm thinking I really should clean this place up. Tidy office, tidy mind. You know."

He wondered if she spent a long time shaping her eyebrows into perfect raising form as she looked around the room. With one final look at his desk, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she returned to her position.

"OK Mulder," she said patronizingly. "We'll do that."

"What?"

Sigh. "Clean this place up."

"Oh. Right."

Scully returned to her work and counted at least 10 taps to his keypad, before he went back to staring balefully at his desk.

***

"Good morning, agents."

Mulder jumped at least 4 inches off his chair as his desk-induced reverie was disturbed by the deep voice and commanding presence of Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner, F.B.I.

"Good morning, Sir," Scully said smoothly.

"Fully recovered from yesterday's excursions I trust, Agent Scully?"

"Oh, you mean pulling Mulder out from under a, what did you say it was Mulder, a 'genetically modified tomato beast' as I recall?"

"Well it was," he muttered. And was ignored by one and all.

"Yes, thank you, Sir. All in a day's work."

"He was very lucky, don't you think Agent Scully? Particularly after he ditched you only hours before?"

"Yes, Sir. Very lucky."

They both looked reprovingly at the subject of their discussion, who suddenly felt like a 9 year old in front of disappointed parents.

"Yes," Skinner mused, seating himself on Mulder's desk. "How many times is that now, Agent Scully?"

"That I've saved his life, or that he's ditched me, Sir?"

They shared an indulgent chuckle. "That you've saved his life, of course, Agent Scully. We don't have time to work out the ditching figure. There's only 5 more working hours in the day."

"Hmm. I make it about 23, Sir," Scully replied. A little smugly in Mulder's opinion.

"Sounds about right." Skinner picked up something from Mulder's desk that Scully couldn't see, as it was shielded by Skinner's body, and started playing casually with it. However, it seemed to grab 100 percent of Mulder's attention. "I've noticed an improvement, though, haven't you Agent Scully?"

"Actually, yes, Sir. Now that you mention it I have. A decline in the rate of both ditching and life-saving." Scully sounded rather surprised.

"Improvement started about...9 months ago, I'd say, wouldn't you?"

Scully frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, Sir. That sounds about right."

"About 9 months ago, wouldn't you say Agent Mulder?" Skinner pressed.

Mulder dragged his eyes away from Skinner's hands. "Yes, Sir," he mumbled.

"Pardon, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, Sir," Mulder repeated loudly, glaring at Skinner with rather more venom than Scully thought strictly necessary.

"Well," Skinner said, putting down the mystery item from Mulder's desk and standing up. "I'll see you for our lunchtime meeting, Agent Mulder, to discuss this further. You hadn't forgotten?"

Scully reassessed her evaluation of venom. "No, Sir."

"Good. I'll see you later. Don't forget anything, will you?"

Scully rethought the venom issue yet again. "No, Sir."

Mulder continued to glare at the door for a moment, before returning, inevitably, to the desk.

***

At 1pm Mulder gathered up the files for yesterday's life-threatening, tomato beast incident, and, turning his back on Scully, did something to the surely-by-now-scorched-from-the-heat-of-his-glare section of desk that she couldn't see.

He cleared his throat. "I'm off for my...um...meeting with Skinner."

"OK. Grab us a couple of sandwiches on the way back and we'll have lunch together."

Scully watched with interest the color creeping up Mulder's neck. "No. He said it will take a while. The meeting and working through lunch". He gulped noticeably.

"Two hours?!! What *will* you be doing?"

Mulder had fought valiantly, but finally lost the battle and color rushed (rather charmingly, Scully thought) to his face. "I don't know," he mumbled, and virtually sprinted out of the office.

***

Once outside, however, he walked rather more slowly to Skinner's office. Kimberly smiled at Mulder as he approached, "Go right on in, Agent Mulder. He's waiting for you."

I'll bet, he thought resentfully, as, with a thundering heart, he entered the office.

Skinner was looking out the window as he arrived, without his jacket and with sleeves rolled up. He pressed the intercom, "You can go to lunch now, Kimberly."

"How is it, Agent Mulder, that it takes 10 minutes to get here from your office, when I'm certain I did the same trip this morning in a mere 5?"

"S..sorry Sir"

Skinner turned around and sighed. "Don't give me that trembling lip, Mulder. We talked about this last night. I *will* get you to think before you act, or die in the attempt."

"I think it's more likely to be me dying, Sir," Mulder said, trying to be light.

Skinner was around his desk, grabbing hold of him before Mulder could realize his error. He shook him violently, "Don't you dare joke about this. Don't you dare!" Mulder wanted to say something, but feared for his tongue between his chattering teeth if he did. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?" Skinner demanded, grabbing Mulder and holding him tightly.

"Yes, Walter," he said softly, discarding the need to breathe as irrelevant in the face of Skinner's obvious pain, "I'm sorry."

Skinner let go and straightened up. "Yes, you certainly will be," he said firmly. Last night had been spent in a desperate reaffirming of Mulder's life in his arms. Breath-taking hugs, and slow, steady love-making. Today was about addressing the problem. "And it's Sir."

"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

"Did you bring it?"

Flushing, Mulder removed the heavy eighteen inch wooden ruler, that had sat on his desk all morning at Skinner's instruction, from the file of notes.

"I expect, Agent Mulder," Skinner said, taking the ruler from him, "you've been thinking about this a great deal today."

"Yes, Sir."

"Since we began our relationship 9 months ago you *have* been thinking more before you act, haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you think this has helped today in reminding you to give things some thought before undertaking?"

"Oh, yes Sir. I promise I'll never..."

"Quiet! Don't add lying to your list of crimes. I don't want to hear anything from you unless directly asked. Do you understand?"

Mulder nodded.

"Good. Let's not delay this any longer." He sat down on his perfectly suited, armless chair. "Come on, you know what to do."

Flushing, Mulder stood beside Skinner, removed his jacket and tie, lowered his pants and positioned himself over Skinner's powerful thighs. Skinner arranged them as comfortably as possible, flipped up Mulder's shirt tails, and swiftly pulled down his boxers, feeling Mulder tense as his bottom was bared. Skinner placed one hand firmly at the small of Mulder's back and took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Mulder's firm, supple buttocks were pale and flawless; beautiful like the rest of him. Skinner felt the usual frisson of excitement that they were his to do with as he wished and rubbed each silky buttock gently.

"Spread your legs a little, Agent Mulder"

Shivering, Mulder obeyed. He hated this, feeling the conflicting sensations run through him, waiting helplessly with his defenseless bottom bared and raised, anticipating the first blow. No matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times Skinner saw him naked, more intimately than this, he never felt so exposed and humiliated as waiting bare-assed for his spanking. The shameful embarrassment and anticipation of pain was intertwined disturbingly with the erotic feeling of nakedness, the air cool around his ass, and the rough feeling of Skinner's wool suit pants against his cock and balls. Skinner rubbed his buttocks gently, stimulating his strained nerves, and ultra-sensitive skin, causing him to tremble.

"Why are you receiving this spanking, Agent Mulder?" The voice shocked him out of his reverie.

"Because," his voice shook and he cleared his throat, "Because I ditched Scully and put my life at risk, Sir."

Skinner's broad, strong hand contacted sharply with his naked bottom, causing him to jump. His flesh was peppered thoroughly, each buttock covered fully and down each of his thighs to his knees. Mulder felt the stinging heat cover his vulnerable flesh and the sensation go through his body to his hardening cock. Unconsciously, he rubbed himself against Skinner's hard thighs.

Skinner smiled as he felt Mulder moving against him, watching the firm muscles of his ass tighten and relax under his hand. When Mulder's quivering buttocks and thighs were an even, rosy pink and he felt the heat from them on his hand without touching, and from Mulder's hard cock through the thick wool of his trousers, he decided they had warmed up enough.

Mulder yelped suddenly as the strength of the blows increased sharply, on the tender under curve of his ass. The hard blows rained down on the sensitive skin at the bottom of his buttocks, and the tops of his parted thighs. He wriggled desperately trying to escape the hard, relentless hand and to his horror felt his eyes brim with tears as his tender flesh heated painfully. His breath caught as he tried to held them back.

Skinner heard the change in Mulder's breathing and stopped, admiring the helpless, red bottom squirming so appealingly over his lap.

"No, Agent Mulder. You are only partially correct, I'm afraid. This spanking is for ditching your partner, it's against bureau protocol and is dangerous for both you and her. You receive this here, in my office as you have broken the rules applying to a federal agent. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Mulder sniffed pitifully.

"However, the far more serious crime was to place your life deliberately in danger by attacking that...whatever it was."

"Genetically modified tomato beast, sir," Mulder said, insistent on the truth even from this position, "and I had to. He was going to attack that farmer..."

"Enough!" punctuated by a hard smack and indignant yelp. "You do not. I repeat DO NOT, consider yourself expendable under any circumstances. Do you (SMACK) understand (SMACK, SMACK) me (SMACK, SMACK, SMACK)?"

"Ow, ow. Yes, sir. (sniff) I understand, sir (sniff)."

"This is a far more personal and serious transgression. What would I do if you got yourself killed? You broke the rules for a relationship, not considering my feelings, therefore you will receive your punishment at home for this. With my belt."

"WHAT!! No!" Mulder struggled to rise, but was easily held.

"Yes. Friday night so you have the weekend to recover. I *will* get through to you how important you are. And you would be advised to keep very quiet."

Mulder subsided.

"Right," Skinner said, picking up the ruler. "We decided 20 strokes last night, and an extra seven for every minute you were late."

Mulder tensed and drew in a breath to argue...

"Don't you think you deserve it, Agent Mulder? The worry you put myself and Agent Scully, who love you, through, not to mention the risk to her if your 'tomato beast' had found her, instead, alone?"

Mulder collapsed despondently over his thighs, "Yes, Sir," he mumbled.

"Mulder, I mean this. It only works if you understand why and agree. If you don't I will let you up, but..." He left it open.

Mulder paused, admittedly tempted, but sighed feeling guilt and the anticipated disappointment wash over him. "Yes, sir. I agree."

"Good. I'm proud of you." Skinner rubbed his back, genuinely proud that he could make such a responsible choice, with his throbbing, bare ass up.

Mulder couldn't hold back a cry as a streak of fire landed on the center of his already enflamed buttocks, and by five strokes was sobbing shamelessly. Skinner striped his buttocks and legs, 10 strokes down and 10 back again. Mulder struggled and writhed, begging Skinner, with words he would not remember after, to stop. There was no pleasure in this for Mulder now, having lost his erection during their discussion and now it was too painful, and while Skinner enjoyed Mulder's hot, scarlet, trembling bottom squirming over his lap, he got no pleasure from Mulder's genuine distress. He steeled himself, remembering the danger Mulder had been in, and finished the punishment.

The next seven strokes covered the sit spot where buttocks meet thighs, as Mulder promised between breathless sobs that he was sorry, soo sorry, and that he'd be good, soo good.

Skinner put the ruler down and rubbed his sobbing lover's back, waiting for him to calm. Slowly Mulder's breath returned to normal and Skinner tipped him gently off his knees. Mulder buried his face in his lap. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Look at me." Mulder raised head eyes slowly, but looked away before he made eye contact. Skinner raised his chin, carefully wiping his face with his hanky. Mulder's teary eyes where huge and his lip trembling, and Skinner felt his heart swell with love. He kissed each of Mulder's eyelid's in turn and then softly, chastely, his luscious lips. "I love you. You've been very brave." He smiled at Mulder, receiving a shaky one in reply. "Now. Let's finish this," he said in a more authoritative tone. Mulder nodded and, picking himself up, shuffled into the corner, his pants hindering him until he got into position, then he dropped them and his boxers to the floor.

"Take off your shirt," Skinner ordered, not having the heart to make Mulder hold it up, but determined to finish the punishment, and also not willing to forego the sight of Mulder's hot, quivering bottom bared for Mulder's embarrassment and his pleasure.

Mulder burned, his face as red as his bottom, as he stood there, humiliated and exposed, but acknowledged the eroticism of his nakedness, and Skinner's appreciative gaze. Gradually the intense pain of his abused flesh diminished, leaving a stinging warmth that spread, as his less severe spankings always did, to his cock. He found his demeaning position humiliating of course, but, as always, rather exciting. He pictured Skinner behind him, knowing how much he enjoyed watching him, and wondered, flushing, if he was arousing his lover.

Skinner waited for half an hour, watching Mulder tense, but not dare to move, as Kimberly returned from lunch, buzzing the intercom, but there were no further interruptions. He kept a careful eye on Mulder, smiling when he finally saw him shift uncomfortably, from something other than the pain in his sore bottom. With self control he was proud of, he waited a further full 5 minutes before going into his bathroom, wetting a towel with cold water and picking up soothing lotion and massage oil. He sat back down on the chair. "Mulder, come over here."

Mulder turned, his face regaining its embarrassed flush, as he shuffled back over, hampered by his pants, his throbbing ass and, he flushed more deeply, his hardened cock.

Skinner motioned him back over his knees. He was relieved when Mulder went quickly, obviously not fearing Skinner would punish him anymore. He pressed the cool towel to Mulder's hot buttocks and moved it down his thighs and back again, feeling Mulder gasp and wriggle over his lap at the sensations.

Mulder, shivered, the cool, gentle stroking on his hot, hot flesh, causing delicious sensations to run through him, centering, inevitably on his now-throbbing cock. As the towel lost its coldness Skinner pushed his willing thighs apart and applied it to his swollen balls. Mulder cried out in shocked pleasure, unable to keep silent. "Walter...please."

Skinner laughed, a deep chuckle that sent frissons through Mulder. "Not yet, boy. And it's Sir, remember?" he said, with a warning squeeze. Mulder whimpered, "Sir, sir, please, I..."

"Hush now, do you want Kimberly in here?" He chuckled again and pushed his handkerchief in Mulder's open mouth, feeling him stiffen in surprise. "There, that should keep you."

To emphasize his point he run his index finger, covered by the towel up Mulder's crack, teasing the opening briefly, smiling as he moaned loudly, even through the cloth. "See? Much better." Mulder wriggled on his lap, eagerly spreading his legs wider. "I said not yet." A light slap to his tender, right buttock causing him to jump.

Skinner put down the towel and picked up the lotion. Scooping up a generous handful, he rubbed it gently into Mulder's still hot flesh, as Mulder squirmed, rubbing his cock more forcefully against Skinner's legs. Finally satisfied that Mulder's buttocks were soothed, he picked up the oil, liberally coating his fingers.

Mulder floated on a cloud of sensation, prickly points of pain and pleasure on his throbbing ass as Skinner rubbed him gently. His cock, trapped beneath him, ached sweetly, and he rubbed, as hard as he could, his movement hampered by Skinner's strong hand. He smelt the fragrant massage oil as Skinner lubricated his fingers, and moaned in desperate anticipation, spreading his legs as wide as they would go. He groaned pathetically as Skinner teased his hot, eager hole with his fingers before thrusting one inside him, moving gently. Mulder bucked uncontrollably as Skinner found the sweet spot inside him, desperate for more. But Skinner refused to give him another finger, making certain he wasn't going to hurt Mulder any more today. Finally in response to the impassioned groans, Skinner pushed in another finger, stretching and probing, preparing his lover, and eventually another. When he was sure Mulder was ready, he removed his steadying hand from Mulder's back. Granted sudden freedom Mulder bucked wildly, desperate for more friction for his straining cock, and more for his tender ass.

Skinner watched, entranced, as Mulder fucked himself wildly on his fingers, his scarlet bottom moving frantically, his hot, little hole greedily taking all it could get, before moving back to ease his aching cock.

It couldn't last long and with a stifled scream Mulder came, hard and desperate over Skinner's lap.

Skinner held his shaking body for a while, before whispering, "On your hands and knees, boy."

Mulder moved instantly, offering his hot ass to Skinner, facing away from him, his legs spread wide. Skinner stared hungrily at the incredible sight before him, as he stripped quickly, breathing steadily to keep from coming just at the pure eroticism of the scarlet bottom spread for his pleasure, and the hot, spasming little hole, slicked and swollen and eager for his cock.

Slicking up his cock he pushed himself deep into Mulder with one steady plunge, both of them groaning desperately. It only took a few hard thrusts into Mulder's hot, sweet and oh, so tight ass, before he was coming, stifling a scream by biting Mulder's shoulder.

They collapsed together, exhausted on the floor, holding each other tightly; as though they'd never let go.

***

They eventually redressed, Skinner in new pants, and Mulder a new shirt, his old one sweat-soaked. Skinner handed Mulder his file and the ruler, Mulder still finding enough modesty to blush, beautifully. Skinner laughed and kissed his soft, pouting, irresistible lips. "Scully will wonder what you've been doing," he said slyly. Mulder stared at the clock in dismay.

"You'd probably better find something to do outside the office, to save your fine little butt."

Mulder nodded in complete agreement, as he did up his fly.

"Here," Skinner said, handing Mulder his own belt. "I want you wear this whenever you go out from now on. To serve as a reminder." He laughed at Mulder's horrified expression.

***

Scully wondered in exasperation exactly what Mulder now found so fascinating about his stomach.

***  
Finis...until Friday...  
***

 

E-mail me ...I would love to hear from you.  
http://geocities.com/eveverfrost/indexjas.html

 

* * *

 

Name: Jas Masson  
Title: Friday  
Series: Sequel to The Desk  
Rating: NC17 for discipline and explicit m/m sex  
Summary: For everyone who asked on The Persuaders list; it's...

* * *

Friday By Jas Masson

I don't know why I went to work today. It's not as though I actually did anything except contribute to Scully's growing certainty that I'm losing my mind. And what could I say? "Don't worry, Scully, I'm just nervous about tonight because my lover...oh, Skinner, didn't I mention?...is gonna beat me to a pulp." Now, where *did* she put that straight-jacket?

I pause outside his door, fingering his belt around my waist. Am I crazy? It's strange, I've never doubted myself with all the 'crazy' things I believe, but when it comes to relationships I'm never sure. It can't be healthy to allow your boyfriend to commit violent acts on you, can it?

He definitely enjoys it and, to my shame, so do I. Does he need to dominate me? Do I need to be dominated? Are we both just acting out our unhealthy impulses?

I was never spanked as a child. Well, I was never really touched as a child. I remember an elicit thrill when my friends used to talk about being spanked by their parents. It *is* erotic when he spanks me. The sensations are sometimes overwhelming.

My cock twitches.

He left work early today. Like *he* has to prepare. I'm the one whose a nervous wreck. Who couldn't eat all day. Scully's going to start looking for a disease in the X-Files that only effects people on Fridays. He always spanks me on a Friday. So I can recover, so he can whip me harder. I know he enjoys having me like that. Over his knee or something else, exposed, vulnerable, defenseless. Helpless against anything he wants to do to me.

The image springs into my mind and I blush at the humiliating position I see myself in. I think of how he gets aroused just looking at me like that. I think of how, in those moments, all his attention is on me. My cock reacts to the thought.

I love it when he watches me. If this is what it takes then I'll do it. For him. I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

***

I know he's out there. I heard his car and I know he's debating whether or not to come in here. I know he's nervous, considering our relationship, just before a severe spanking it's always the same. He doubts us. Wonders if this is some way for me to have a son, and him a father who pays him attention. If we are unhealthy, crazy even.

I've never thought of him as a son. He's an intelligent, wonderful man. And, believe me, my feelings when he's writhing over my lap are as far from fatherly as possible.

I do enjoy it. By far the most erotic thing I have ever seen, let alone experienced, is to watch Fox Mulder when he's overtaken with sensations *I* have given him, whether pain or pleasure. And he enjoys it too. He doesn't know why, couldn't explain it if you asked.

He does recognize that he craves the attention, but he still thinks he does it simply for me. I *do* do it to punish him, to make him realize he's important to someone, to modify his behavior, but also because he needs it. He finds it difficult to admit how much he enjoys just letting go, lost in pure sensations, not having to think about his sister, alien invasions, responsibilities. Just lose himself in the feelings. To allow himself to experience.

But I know, and can give it to him. But I'm always nervous. At least as nervous as he is. I took the afternoon off to just think things through. I worry that one day I'm going to push him too far, that he'll hate it, hate me. But to show him how much I care, to take him where he needs to go, I risk it.

The responsibility for this falls on my head; he's passive at these times, and I'm active. If it goes wrong, it's my fault.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

***

He's always so calm, like it's completely normal for a guy to come over to his boyfriend's for a spanking. He talks all the way through dinner. It's strange. Usually I'm the chatty one and he's quieter, but on Fridays he fills the silences. Perhaps he's trying to keep me calm, to take my mind off it.

I eat every bite of dinner, although I'm not hungry and don't taste it. At this point I'm trying to take up time, put it off, and also I know that he'll make me eat it if I don't. We've been here before, and I don't want to make him angry. He clears the plates away. He always does everything on these nights, cooks, clears up, as I wait, my heart beating faster and faster. Finally he comes out of the kitchen and looks at me seriously.

"Upstairs, Fox."

***

I send him up in front of me and I hear his quickened breathing. No matter how much he needs it, he's always afraid.

As soon as we're upstairs he turns to me, "Sir, this really isn't necessary. Next time I promise to think..."

"No, Fox. We agreed on this. I *will* make you understand how much it would hurt me if anything happened to you."

His eyes drop. This is one of our major problems. And, in truth, the main reason why we must do this. Deep down he doesn't believe anyone could really care for him (I swear if his father were alive I'd rectify that situation myself), and he doesn't believe in just words of love. But I'll show him. With pleasure.

"Yes, Sir," his voice is small and he doesn't look up.

"Take off your clothes."

He begins to undress, his hands shaking, blushing furiously. Normally he's as comfortable naked with me as clothed, but in our unequal positions on these nights he's embarrassed by his nakedness, his vulnerability.

Finally he stands before me, naked. My breath catches as I look at him. He's so beautiful. Perfect. Flushed and trembling slightly, his naked body flawless, his eyes huge, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. I take a few moments to admire him <mine> and I feel his anxiety and embarrassment rise. I watch him, unable to take his eyes off my hands, as I reach down and remove my belt from his discarded pants. His breathing becomes heavier and I watch his chest move. Finally I sit on the bed and motion him over my lap, I use his name to keep the intimacy between us, "Come here, Fox".

***

It's humiliating to stand naked and vulnerable in front of him, but even more so to bend over his lap. He arranges us as comfortably as possible, one warm, large hand at the small of my back, another spreading my legs to his satisfaction before resting on the curve of my cheeks. The exposure is unbelievable. Spread and naked, helpless under his hands, my bare bottom trembling, raised and defenseless, awaiting the first stroke.

"Why are you being punished, Fox?"

His voice is gentle, and so is the hand rubbing my ass. I know the reason, have been here many times before, so I answer quickly. "Because I put myself in danger needlessly." My voice is already breathless.

"That's right. And why is that such a crime?"

My breath catches, and for some reason, even though I *know* what he wants to hear, I can't answer.

"Because I love you." It's a whisper, and even though I knew he was going to say it, tears creep into my eyes, and I don't answer.

The first blow is from his hand, as I knew it would be. This intimacy, me so defenseless beneath him, requires nothing less. He always begins with his hand. I wonder if it's because he knows how helplessly erotic I find it. The connection of his warm, heavy hand on an intimate part of my body. My exposure and vulnerability to him, the knowledge that he is enjoying it, that he's focused completely on me, combine to harden my cock.

His hand strikes me again and again, and I feel my flesh heat underneath it. The sensation is prickly; it stings and I feel myself clenching my ass. He spanks me harder, the tender undercurve of my buttocks begins to be painful, and I realize I'm moving, trying to avoid the heavy hand. The prickly heat spreads through me, and I feel dizzy under the sensations and the exposure, my cock throbbing in time to the quickening beat of my heart.

***

He's so beautiful. Helpless under my hand. I don't know if he's aware when he begins to squirm, his rosy bottom dancing over my lap. Heat spreads through me as I feel his cock swelling against my thigh. I spank him harder, needing to reinforce the connection, and his movements become more pronounced. I smack his thighs, hearing him gasp as I concentrate on the tender area at the top where they meet his bottom, and the sensitive skin between his legs, close to his swollen balls. I feel arousal spread through me as he moans softly at the sensations I'm giving him. But this is not all about pleasure, and I increase the pace.

Finally I hear his breathing change and know he is crying. His bottom is red and squirming, futilely clenching and relaxing, attempting to protect itself and alleviate the sting.

I stop, rubbing his hot flesh, feeling his body quiver.

"Stand up, Fox."

***

It's hard to obey him, but I do. My face is surely as red as my ass, and I don't meet his eyes, unwilling to let him see my tears at just a hand spanking, and knowing it is far from over.

He arranges some pillows on the middle of the and pulls me over them, so my bare ass is raised and he parts my thighs to complete my exposure. He goes to retrieve the belt and it's humiliating to stay here like this. I picture myself; red, trembling bottom raised up, awaiting further punishment, my legs spread and the tender opening of my body exposed to view. I know he's watching me, enjoys me like this, and my cock surges again, despite my fear, even as humiliation sweeps through me.

He touches my throbbing cheeks, and I moan, softly. I want to plead with him not to do it, but I don't. Somewhere since starting I've come to accept this as inevitable.

"You are the most important thing in the world to me," he says softly, and somehow, at this moment, it makes more sense.

There is a warning tap of leather on my flesh, before it's taken away and returns, a streak of fire on my already sore buttocks.

I cry out in pain and struggle against the firm hand at the small of my back, holding me down. The belt falls again on the tender tops of my thighs and I begin to sob, writhing, trying to escape the pain as the belt falls again and again.

Soon I don't know how many times the belt has hit me, only that my bottom is on fire, and my throat sore, and the only other thing I am aware of is his incongruously gentle, steadying hand on my back. I'm crying, my emotions overwhelming me as well as the pain. Eventually, I stop struggling, accepting, and the hand moves gently up my back to my hair, caressing it soothingly and I accept the loving gesture easily, naturally, through the pain.

Finally the belt stops, and another hand begins to stroke me, accompanied by soothing murmurs I can't understand.

***

I know we are close to finishing when he stops struggling against me. He can't help the involuntary squirming of his scarlet buttocks, but he lies there accepting the lash, and leans unconsciously into my hand as I smooth his hair. Both of our erections are gone, but as he whispers my name as he lies there dazed, I feel my heart swell. I soothe him gently, murmuring nonsense until his sobs stop and he lies still.

I go into the bathroom and return with a cold towel some cooling ointment and some oil to finish our ritual. He hisses as the coldness touches his scalded buttocks, but settles as he feels the worst of the pain begin to leave. I move on to the ointment and rub it gently into the sore flesh of his bottom and thighs.

He's so beautiful, wearing my mark, now completely uninhibited under my hands, spreading his legs easily as I trace his crack with some of the ointment. At his low moans of pleasure/pain I feel my arousal return, and gently kiss the back of his neck.

***

The pain fades as he soothes me. I no longer feel embarrassed under his gaze and am simply grateful for his presence as he cares for me. Grateful *that* he does care for me. It's always a strange moment when I return to my senses following the spanking. Almost like returning to earth after floating, after being lost in sensations with only him to ground me, as he touches me all through it. I feel his concern and his arousal as he strokes me, his lips soft against my neck.

It's always like this when he spanks me, I go from arousal under his hand, to insensible under the pain, to arousal again when I return to find him waiting for me. Always tired but relaxed, the emotion drained from me, every nerve ending sensitive, every feeling purged. I feel my arousal returning as the pain fades, and, as he strokes between my cheeks, I part my legs wider. I feel so comfortable lying there, open, knowing he's with me, that he's been with me, that he cares for me. So much easier to accept now. My cock stirs as the heat spreads through me and I moan under his touch. His finger is slick and insistent as it presses into me and I push back, wanting to give him whatever he wants, wanting any sensation he will give me.

***

I've seen it many times, but it never ceases to amaze me how beautiful he is, exhausted, open, honest and replete, covered in sweat and trembling under my hand. I push between his hot, red buttocks and into his eager little hole, moaning as he pushes back into me. I stroke his throbbing, quivering bottom with my other hand as I push in another finger. He thrust back into me, taking more of me and rubbing his straining cock against the pillows. But I want more. I know we are never as close as we are right now, after a spanking, he's never as open to me, as ready to accept my love as when I've proved it to him physically. I spank him on Fridays, not just so he'll have time to recover, but also to take full advantage of our closeness for the weekend.

I turn him over gently, pushing the pillows up to fit under the small of his back and push up his knees to take most of his weight off his buttocks.

His face is still flushed and tearstained as he meets my eyes, but there is no trace of embarrassment or anger, and in his open face I read the love that he so often feels he has to hide.

I push my yearning cock against his hot, begging hole, feeling it spasm with need, and hearing him moan, trying to push down on me. I thrust inside his velvet heat, feeling him contract around me, hearing his guttural moan of completion.

I thrust again and again into his sweet, tight ass, his moans in my ear, and feel him grabbing my shoulders, pulling me closer. I reach between us and pump his hot, straining cock with my slick hand, and he cries my name as he comes, his muscles clenching down on me, pulling me along with him.

We lie there exhausted until I push myself up and look into his flushed, happy face.

"You know why we do this?" I ask him, solemnly.

He smiles sweetly back at me, as if he's never doubted, as if it's always been easy for him to accept, to say, "Because you love me."

And I know we have taken a step closer together.

***  
finis  
***

 

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Archived: April 10, 2001 


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